


Perfect In My Mind

by FreshBrains



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, F/F, Love Stories, Motherhood, Non-Linear Narrative, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2799758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melissa smiled at Braeden, a soft smile she hoped said <i>I like you, but it would never work</i>.  “Thanks again for the coffee.  Stay out of trouble.”</p>
<p>“No promises,” Braeden said, winking flirtatiously as she turned to leave.</p>
<p>As Melissa walked down the hallway, her shoes squeaking with each step, her chest tightened a little—just a fleeting feeling that always meant change was coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect In My Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EllEli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllEli/gifts).



> For the Teen Wolf Femslash Holiday Exchange, gifted to the lovely EllEli. Hope you enjoy! <3
> 
> Past is in italics, present in regular text.

Braeden leaned down, her dark hair falling in curls over the white blanket on Melissa’s lap.  “Don’t make fun of me,” she warned, and cupped her hands gently around Melissa’s stomach.

Melissa just folded the corner of the page over in her book and rested one hand in Braeden’s hair, fingers scratching gently against her scalp.  They had similar hair—dark, curly.  They always argued about who wasn’t cleaning the shower out. 

“This is your mama,” Braeden said, so soft Melissa had to strain to hear her.  “I’ve always been decent at keeping people safe.  But I’m saving my best for you.” She pressed a kiss over Melissa’s shirt and sat up, clearing her throat.  “Okay, I’m done.  I just had to get it out of my system.”

Melissa looked over, giving her wife a grin.  “I can see right through you,” she teased.  “Don’t play it cool with me, missy.”

“I know,” Braeden said, and curled into Melissa’s side. 

*

_“So Deaton has been taking some time off lately after hiring Stiles on as an apprentice,” Scott said, clearing his throat.  Melissa loved him more than life itself, but he was hopeless as subtlety.  “He’s not so busy anymore.”_

_Melissa hid her smile and tossed him a dish towel so he could dry the dishes.  “Is that so?” She usually let him take it easy when he was home on break—it was his first year of college, after all—but being a nosy pest earned him chores.  Kira shot her an apologetic look from where she sat at the kitchen table, cutting out shapes in_ biscochito _dough._

_“And he and his husband split up last year,” Scott continued, dutifully drying the plates before stacking them in the cupboard.  The tattoos on his arms—too many, if Melissa had any say in it—flexed and moved as he reached up.  “Just in case you were wondering.”_

_“I wasn’t, kiddo,” Melissa said, kissing Scott on the temple as she moved past him, “but thanks for keeping me up to date.”_

_“What Scott is trying to say,” Kira said kindly, “is that he’s worried about you being alone.”_

_“That’s not what I said,” Scott mumbled, cheeks coloring.  Kira took his hand and kissed his palm; for a couple of college freshmen, they acted like an old married couple.  It made Melissa’s chest ache._

_“It’s an alpha thing,” Kira said, always apologetic, always trying to make the room as comfortable for everyone as possible.  “He gets anxious, being so far away from his pack members all the time.  But he’s too sweet to say anything.”_

_Melissa smiled.  She was glad to have Kira.  She was glad_ Scott _had Kira.  They both had giant hearts, but Kira was better at talking about it.  “Trust me, you two.  I’m doing alright for myself.  Just study hard, keep out of trouble, and mind your business.”_

_Melissa never minded being alone.  She was good alone, good at taking care of herself.  But still, she didn’t tell Scott and Kira that she had a date with Braeden for the following Friday.  She wanted it to be hers and hers alone for just a little while longer._

*

“Braeden, did you turn the heat down again?” Melissa wrapped her purple cashmere sweater tighter around her arms and slid on her fuzzy white slippers.  “It’s practically a freezer in here.”  She paused at the top of the stairs, her feet too sore to make the long journey down.

Braeden appeared in the stairwell, hands on her hips.  She wore a scarf, a pair of gloves, and a black headband over her ears as she looked up at her wife.  “Half an hour ago you said you were boiling.  I’m living in some kind of icy-hot nightmare, babe.”  But her face broke and they both laughed.  Braeden turned back into the kitchen.  “I’ll turn it up.  Get some rest, okay?”

“Aye-aye, ma’am,” Melissa said, cupping her belly with her hands.  _I can’t believe I’m here again,_ she thought for the hundredth time, smiling like a complete goof-ball.

She wandered back into the bedroom and sank down onto the fluffy white comforter, sighing in relief once she was off her feet.  Her first pregnancy was a monster—constant sickness, painful kicking, spotting, and an eight-hour labor that had her in stitches at the end.  Rafael was there, sure, but that was already towards the end of their relationship, and she hardly even wanted him by her side. 

It was all over when Scott was born, though—she was hooked.  He was worth it.

The current pregnancy was different.  Not better, not worse—maybe it was her age, maybe it was the fact that she had a partner she knew she’d be with for the rest of her life, but she just wasn’t _scared_ like she was during the first one.  She had her aches and pain and worries, her cravings and mood swings, but she took them in stride. 

After everything with Scott in the past five years—the demons and monsters, the changing packs and alliances, the secrets shuffled from hand to hand—that was all she could do.  Taking things in stride was never easy for her before, but it was becoming Melissa’s lifestyle.

Early in the pregnancy, when they were both still holding their breath to pass the mark when they could start telling people, Melissa had nightmares.  She dreamed of a baby with glowing eyes and sharp teeth, long claws instead of tiny fingers.  She dreamed of someone coming in and taking her baby away in its jaws, bloody and demonic, something not even Braeden could fight off.  She dreamed of Scott coming in to save his baby sibling and howling in pain when he was too late.

Melissa always woke up sweating and shake, clutching her stomach, making sure her child was still there.  Braeden followed two second later, bolt upright at Melissa’s side.

“They’re just dreams,” Braeden said, carding her fingers through Melissa’s damp hair.  “I have them too.  They never come true, trust me.”

The trust was a new thing, too.  Melissa may be on her second pregnancy, but it was a whole new world she was bringing a child into.

“You alright?  Feeling okay today?” Braeden appeared in the doorway, breaking Melissa out of her thoughts.

Melissa sat up slowly.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  Just getting anxious to meet Mia.”  She leaned against the headboard, framed by the several dozen fluffy pillows Lydia had been stopping by with lately. 

Braeden gave Melissa a sly, teasing smile, the one that always made Melissa flush and giggle like a teenager.  “I love when you call her that.  It’s like she’s here already.”  They’d settled on Mia after long debate—Armand for a boy because that was Melissa’s grandfather’s name, and Mia or Lena for a girl.  When Braeden inadvertently revealed how she was a soccer champion in high school, Melissa knew that just had to go with Mia.

“How about you?” Melissa asked, scooting over to make room on the bed.

Braeden rolled her eyes and sat next to Melissa.  “Don’t worry about me.  This mama-to-be is doing alright.  Here, let me rub your feet.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” Melissa said, shifting her foot into Braeden’s lap.  She sighed as Braeden warmed some lavender-scented lotion in her hands and rubbed slowly at the balls of Melissa’s foot, digging her thumbs into the arches.  “That’s the good stuff.”

Braeden huffed out a laugh.  “I finished the nursery, by the way.  Lydia came by with her childhood bassinet, the one with the purple lace.  You know I fell in love with it when she told us about it.”

Melissa closed her eyes, growing drowsy beneath Braeden’s touch.  When Scott was a baby, she did all of that herself—painted, picked out colors and toys, put the crib together.  Rafael was always too busy.  But Braeden liked working with her hands; she liked doing slow, steady work that benefitted in the long run.  Their child would sleep in a purple and blue wonderland full of stuffed animals and books, with white-lacquered furniture—everything calm and sweet and dreamy.  “Love you,” she said softly, drifting off to sleep.

“Ditto,” Braeden said, voice tender.

*

_“I just…” Braeden shook her head, looking outside the bay window at the snow falling in wet clumps on the grass.  “I don’t know if I could do it.  I mean, I’m damn good at handling stress, you know that.  But…”_

_Melissa reached across the table and took Braeden’s hand in hers, lacing their fingers together.  They chose to have the official conversation on a Saturday afternoon at the kitchen table, a pot of coffee bubbling on the countertop, notepads and cell phones out in front of them.  “You don’t have to explain anything to me, really.  I understand.”_

_Braeden inhaled sharply through her nose, hand tightening around Melissa’s.  Her fingers trembled.  “I could only save one of them.”_

_Melissa’s brow furrowed.  “What do you mean?”_

_“The first time we met,” Braeden said wryly, lips curling a little at the memory, as if lying in a hospital bed going in and out of consciousness constituted as a first meeting.  “I saved the boy with the curly hair.  The beta.  But there were four of them.  Two girls, two boys.  And one of them died because of me.”_

_Melissa’s face softened.  She sometimes thought of Erica, timid little Erica Reyes who blossomed after the bite, who stopped needing doctor’s visits and check-ups.  She had mourned Erica, just like she mourned all of Scott’s friends who died because of things so much bigger than them._

_Braeden went on.  “If something happened during the pregnancy, it would kill me.  I can’t lose anyone else.” She grimaced.  “Wow, that was so cheesy.  I sound like an action movie.”_

_Melissa laughed softly.  “Braeden, I hate to tell you this, but there’s always a chance that_ something _might happen.  I’ve assisted at the hospital for nearly a thousand deliveries, and most of them are happy days, but bad things happen to even the best people.  The best_ mothers _.” She thought of how much she feared Scott after he revealed the bite, revealed what he turned into.  She thought she lost her son that day, and it was like a knife in the throat, it made it hard to even exist, but she was one of the lucky ones.  She never lost her child.  Not like the Reyes or Boyd families, not like Chris Argent._

_Braeden nodded, hands still trembling.  “I’m not brave like you.”_

_“No, you’re not,” Melissa said with a teasing grin.  “You’re brave in different ways, Rambo.”_

_That finally got Braeden to laugh, a small laugh, but a good one.  “I still don’t know what to do.  What do you want to do?”_

_“Do you want to be a mother?” Melissa kept her eyes locked on Braeden’s.  She already knew the answer._

_Braeden didn’t pause for a second before answering.  “Yes.  I want to be a mother.”  Her voice wavered; her eyes watered but she didn’t cry.  Emotion poured off her in waves, so rare for a woman like Braeden, who prided herself on keeping cool no matter how high the stakes.  “I’m ready to be a mother.”_

_Melissa believed her.  Fear had nothing to do with the capability to be a mother—all mothers had fear.  It’s what made them brave in the end.  “Then I think we both know what the best option is.”  They’d done their research carefully, attended a dozen doctors’ appointments and consultations together.  They left no stone unturned._

_Braeden stood up and skirted around the table, pulling Melissa into her arms.  Their scents mixed well, their perfumes complimented each other’s—each member of the pack had mentioned it at least once.  But they already knew.  “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”_

_“Yeah, we are,” Melissa said into Braeden’s neck, a weight lifting off her shoulders.  “And he’s doing fine, by the way.”_

_Braeden pulled back, wiping her eyes.  “Who?”_

_“The boy,” Melissa said.  “Isaac.  He had a rough life, but he’s found someone to take care of him.  A father he can trust.  And they’re doing just fine.”_

_Braeden relaxed into her arms, and Melissa knew that they, too, would be just fine._

*

“Okay, overnight bag, parking stickers, forms all filled out and ready to go…Stiles, you’re supposed to be checking these things off!” Lydia rushed out the door, locking it behind her, and Stiles spread mountain ash over the porch—just in case.

“Yeah, I got it, we’re all set,” Stiles said, overnight bag dangling from her elbow.  “Scott and Kira are on their way to the hospital, and my dad is on his way to the house to make sure everything’s ready to go when they get back.”

“Braeden, is the car seat all ready?” Lydia whipped around, her red hair in a flurry around her face.  If there was anyone who was good in high-pressure _human_ conflicts, it was Lydia Martin.  “I have the emergency numbers and the alarm codes.  Okay, into the car, everyone.”

“I’ve been in the car for twenty minutes, Lydia,” Melissa said good-naturedly from the passenger seat, her cheeks flushed.  “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

Braeden hopped into the front seat and buckled her seatbelt, her breathing steady.  She checked the mirrors and the gas gauge, made sure the airbag light was on.

“Wow,” Melissa said, hands folded over her belly.  “You’re alarmingly calm right now.”

“I used to be a getaway driver,” Braeden said, pulling easily out of the driveway once everyone was buckled in.  “This part’s a piece of cake for me.”

“Cool, like in _Drive_?” Stiles perked up from the back seat where he was tucking an extra sweatshirt into Melissa’s overnight bag.

“That’s so sexy,” Melissa said, giving Braeden a lighthearted poke.  Then she grimaced, jolting forward a little bit.  “Ooh, contraction.  That wasn’t fun.”

Lydia held up her cell phone.  “Okay, I’ve been timing them.  We’re good to go as long as we get to the hospital in the next two hours.”

“It’s a five-minute drive,” Melissa said, working on steadying her breathing.  She realized with a tug of affection that Braeden wasn’t just being calm and collected, she was doing Lamaze breathing, trying to get Melissa on the same page.

“Then we’ll definitely be good to go,” Lydia retorted, tapping furiously on her phone.  “Your suite’s all ready, too.”

“I feel like I won’t even have to give birth, you’ll all just do it for me,” Melissa said dryly.  “Okay, you can speed it up a little, Brae.  It’s thirty-five here.”

“Not a chance,” Braeden answered, not bothering to hide her joy.

*

_Before they got together, Melissa laughed in Braeden’s face when she asked her out._

_“I’m serious,” Braeden said, still smiling that smooth, sultry grin of hers, leaning over the nurse’s station.  She came bearing a caramel macchiato with a shot of almond, Melissa’s kryptonite, but she refused to be blindsided by fattening coffee drinks.  “Go out to dinner with me.  Just a meal.  My treat.”_

_“I can’t go out with you, Braeden,” Melissa said, leaning back in her chair.  She tended to relish any quiet moment she could get in the hospital, and as a float pool nurse, they were rare._

_“Give me one really good reason why you can’t go out with me and I won’t ask again,” Braeden said, still leaning over, revealing the sensuous dip of her cleavage beneath her jacket and camisole.  “And I’ll still bring you coffee when you’re on the night shift.”_

_Melissa bit her lip, wondering where the hell this girl came from and why she was sticking around.  “Well, for starters, I barely even_ know _you.”  They all knew the bare minimum about Braeden—almost killed by Deucalion, mercenary, used to be a U.S. Marshal.  Slept with Derek Hale at least once (or a few times, according to Stiles, god help the kid)._

_“That’s the purpose of a date, Nurse McCall,” Braeden said, teasing.  “Another reason.”_

_“I’m way too old for you,” Melissa said, face flushing a little._ I should’ve said you’re way too _young_ for me, _Melissa thought stubbornly._

_Braeden laughed, waving her hand like she was pushing away the idea.  “I’m almost thirty.  Did you know what?”_

_“And I’m almost forty-three,” Melissa said dryly.  “A thirteen year age difference is pretty wide.”  Rafael was four years older than her and he always held that over her.  She wouldn’t feel right to do the same with Braeden.  “I’m an old woman.  I may still be cute as hell, but trust me, I’m not what you’re looking for.”_

_Braeden frowned, her pink-glossed lips turned into a pout that Melissa most definitely didn’t find adorable.  “And how would you know what I’m looking for?”  For a fleeting moment, her hand drifted up to her neck, fingertips grazing the puffy scar tissue before dropping back down.  “Girl’s gotta settle down sometime.  And Beacon Hills needs someone like me.”_

_“Melissa, can we get you in room six?” One of the nighttime nurses stuck their head into the hall, beckoning to Melissa._

_“On my way,” she said, and smiled at Braeden, a soft smile she hoped said_ I like you, but it would never work _.  “Thanks again for the coffee.  Stay out of trouble.”_

_“No promises,” Braeden said, winking flirtatiously as she turned to leave._

_As Melissa walked down the hallway, her shoes squeaking with each step, her chest tightened a little—just a fleeting feeling that always meant change was coming._

*

“She’s so small,” Braeden said, voice hushed.  She traced Mia’s dark hair with her pinkie finger, the wisps like silk against her skin.  “I’ve never held anything so delicate before.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Melissa said, one arm wrapped around Braeden’s waist, one arm tucked under Braeden’s so they could both support their daughter.  The nursery glowed with a soft purple light—Deaton and Stiles made them a special night-light that warded off anything sinister, even though Braeden was already in over-protective mama mode.  And not to mention Scott, who would most likely be keeping watch outside Mia’s nursery door until she was three years old.

“God,” Braeden laughed softly, smiling as Mia snuffled in her sleep, “she looks like _us_.  How is that possible?”  It was true, unbelievably so—Mia had Braeden’s lips and ears, Melissa’s chin and nose.  There was a little of Scott in her too, something strong and peaceful.  They were new mothers, ready to see whatever they wanted to see in their child, but they didn’t care.  Mia was _theirs_.

Melissa laughed, kissing Braeden’s neck, gentle on her scars.  “This is Beacon Hills, baby.  Anything is possible.” 

Braeden laughed, staring into their daughter’s dark eyes.  Melissa was right—anything was possible in Beacon Hills.  Anything was possible when she was home.

*

_“This is unbelievable,” Braeden said, laughing in the passenger seat of Melissa’s SUV, a crown of purple and white paper flowers in her hair.  “We just got married._ You _just married_ me _.”_

_“That was the plan,” Melissa responded, sunglasses covering her eyes as they drove down the highway to the motel they booked for a night.  Melissa still had the early shift, and Braeden would be going out of town for a week on her last job before settling to work security for Deaton in Beacon Hills.  They were both in jeans and tee shirts, cheeks flushed, marriage certificate folded in the glove box._

_“Baby, I’ve never had a plan in my life,” Braeden said, leaning over to press a kiss to her new wife’s cheek._

_“They’re overrated, anyways,” Melissa said, resting her hand on Braeden’s thigh.  Their wedding bands were made of twine.  “Once I saw you take down a wolf pack, I knew careful plans weren’t in the cards for us.”_

_Braeden couldn’t stop smiling, her body glowing with happiness.  “You drive me wild, Melissa McCall.  We’re going to have a wild life together.”_

_“God help us all,” Melissa said, driving steadily towards the sunset._

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Gold Motel's song of the same name.
> 
> As far was warnings go, there is nothing explicit about childbirth in this fic, though Melissa recalls some past unpleasant experiences with her first pregnancy. Some fear/anxiety about the supernatural is expressed by Melissa, but it is brief.


End file.
